The Hunter

Chapter 5

Tyrell and Alejandra stood in front of the grand townhouse, its opulence now tainted by the gruesome crime that had taken place within its walls. As they stepped out of the car, the weight of the situation hung heavy in the air. Alejandra, her voice tinged with sombreness, broke the silence.
"Ty', before we go in, let me tell you something," she said, her eyes filled with a mix of empathy and concern. "Boris had a wife and a son. Flint, he's just seven years old." The revelation stirred a deep anger within Tyrell, a burning desire for justice. What kind of sick individual would commit such a heinous act against a family? The Playing Card Killer had to be stopped.
They approached the townhouse, ready to face the chilling reality that awaited them. As they reached the entrance, a ginger-haired MCPD officer intercepted them, his gaze scrutinising their identification badges. After a momentary inspection, he acknowledged their federal agent status. "Whomever did that is a psycho," the officer remarked, waving them inside. "Try not to puke," he called after them, his words a grim reminder of the horror they were about to witness.
Passing under the white and blue crime scene tape, Tyrell and Alejandra stepped into the house. The hallway stretched before them, the air thick with tension and a lingering sense of dread. At the centre of it all, the medical examiner, a striking woman in her forties donning white protective overalls and blue gloves stained with blood, hunched over a pile of dismembered body parts with a playing card coloured red with blood amongst them.
Tyrell averted his gaze, his mind grappling with the gruesome scene before him.
I am the Hunter, he thought, determination burning in his eyes. And I'll capture that psycho. He deserves life on death row.
The medical examiner straightened herself, turning to face Tyrell and Alejandra. Her gloved hands, smeared with crimson, remained at her sides. With a faint Dutch accent, she offered a half-hearted apology, aware of their unamused expressions. "Sorry, straight to business then," she said. "Well, he was chopped into pieces. As you can see, arms and legs were separated from the torso, and the torso was cut open, with all the internal organs ripped out. Decapitated, eyes gouged, and the top of the skull sawed through, the brain taken out."
"Jesus," Alejandra whispered, her voice barely audible. She added in French, "c'est perturbe " it's disturbing.
Tyrell nodded, his mind compartmentalising the grim details, focusing on the task at hand. He detached himself from the visceral scene, stealing his resolve. "Thank you for your assistance," he said, his voice steady. "We have an interview with the wife to attend to."
With that, Alejandra turned and began walking out, her demeanour reflecting the weight of the situation. Tyrell lingered for a brief moment, his gaze fixed on the macabre scene, before shaking himself from his stupor. Determination burning within him, he followed Alejandra, ready to uncover the truth and bring justice to those affected by this act of unspeakable brutality.
    As Tyrell caught up to Alejandra, they stepped out of the townhouse, the weight of the crime scene still heavy on their hearts. The pale glow of the streetlights cast an eerie ambiance, reflecting their solemn mood.
The evening air carried a sense of foreboding, as if the darkness itself was conspiring to keep the truth hidden. Tyrell's mind raced with questions, each one a piece of the puzzle he was determined to solve. Why would the Playing Card killer commit such an act against Boris J. Draper?
Silently, they made their way back to the car, their thoughts swirling with a mix of anger and determination. Alejandra's face, usually composed and strong, now displayed a flicker of vulnerability. Tyrell knew that beneath her tough exterior, she carried the weight of the horrors they encountered.
Sliding into the car, Tyrell turned to Alejandra, his eyes filled with empathy. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern. Alejandra managed a faint smile, her determination resurfacing. "I'll be fine," she replied, her voice steady. "We have a job to do, Ty'."
As they drove through the dimly lit streets of Minus, Tyrell's mind swirled with conflicting emotions. The gruesome scene replayed in his mind, each detail etching itself into his memory. His thoughts, fueled by a mix of anger and justice, fueled his determination to apprehend the perpetrator.
Arriving at their destination, the residence of Boris J. Draper's wife, Tyrell and Alejandra gathered themselves. They mentally prepared for the emotional encounter that awaited them. Stepping out of the car, they approached the door, their badges at the ready.
Tyrell took a deep breath, his heart heavy with the weight of the case. With each step, he steeled himself, knowing that this investigation would bring them face to face with the unimaginable darkness that lurked within this city
As the door swung open, revealing a grieving widow, Tyrell locked eyes with her, silently promising to bring justice for her husband and son. In that moment, his resolve solidified, and the Hunter within him vowed to navigate the treacherous shadows until the truth was unveiled.